Charles led her back to the captain's cabin. Once she had closed the door behind them and before she could say anything, he spoke, "Show me that dagger of yours." Abigail slowly pulled it out of her makeshift belt, careful to not nick the rope holding up her trouser and presented it to him hilt first. Charles took the offered blade and carefully studied it, weighing it in his hand, "Decent blade. Where did you get it?"
"I took it off the carriage driver. He died in the crash and I don't know why but I needed the reassurance of a weapon. I tried taking his sword but it was too heavy so I took this," she recounted the story for him. "I'm glad I took it," she continued, sending a smile his way. He returned her smile with one of his smirks, "As am I."
He moved over to the table and put the dagger down. He pointed to the bed, "Sit down." Abigail followed his request and once she was seated, Charles started speaking. "It will be a long time before you will stand a chance in a fight. Everybody on this ship could easily overpower you. For now, you must focus on getting out of a fight. Keep your dagger with you always and use it defensively. Stab the person that is attacking you and then get away. Find me or a crew member or hide in a crowded place. Do you understand?" Abigail nodded.
"Good," Charles continued, "Never try to stab somebody in the chest. The blade will deflect off their ribs. Focus on throat or gut, the thigh if you can't get to the other two places. If your opponent is male, a swift kick to their genitals can be effective. Got it?" Abigail nodded again.
"You can keep the dagger on your belt but you should also carry a smaller knife in your boot. We will get clothes and weapons for you once we have reached Nassau. Come here. Let us run through what I just told you." Abigail got up and stood near him. He resumed talking, "We will slowly go through what I just told you. I'm going to grab you and you react." Abigail nodded a third time.
Charles came to stand next to her and wrapped his arms around her, carefully minding not to touch her back. For a moment Abigail was lost in his arms, but she regained control of her senses. This was not a lover's embrace. He was teaching her and she better pay attention. She did her best trying to ascertain where the weak spots were and made a stabbing motion. The ran through more scenarios as the minutes went by.
By the end, Abigail's back was hurting again, the motions aggravating her wound. She held up her hands, "Please, no more for today. My back hurts." Charles took a few steps back and nodded. He moved over to the table and poured both of them some wine. "Drink this. It'll help with the pain," he said as he held out the cup for her to take. Even though the wine was too strong for her, she gladly accepted. Her back smarting more by the second. She muttered a quick, "Thank you", before taking a big gulp. She could not help but shudder when she the bitter taste of the wine hit her tongue causing Charles to laugh at her antics. She smiled back at him and explained, "I never liked red wine. Too bitter for my taste."
"How much longer before we get back to Nassau," she asked, while retrieving her book from the table. She had moved back to her reading spot behind the captain's chair before he answered, "If the winds stay favourable, we should be there in ten days' time give or take a couple of days."
Abigail had settled back into her reading spot before she remembered that she had wanted to ask him something. "Charles, do you have a comb by any chance," she asked, sitting back up, "I got startled by my own appearance earlier when I saw my reflection in one of Sam's cooking pots." Charles chuckled slightly at her admission but once again, he wordlessly fulfilled her request.
Abigail gladly took the offered comb from his hands and got to work on her hair. It really was a mess she realized and started tugging at the comb harder. She winced as the comb finally pulled free from her hair. Her back was preventing her from even doing this mundane activity. Frustrated, she lowered her hands. He looked up at him, "Thank you, but it seems this is another activity that my back currently dislikes."
Charles held out his hand expectantly and Abigail handed the comb over, a quizzical look on her face. Charles motioned for her to make space for him on the alcove seat and he came to rest behind her. Gently, he began running the comb through her hair. Starting at the bottom and slowly working out all the knots. With a sigh Abigail rested her head on his knee. She pulled the book toward her. "Have you ever read Don Quixote," she asked, opening the book. He chuckled, "No. I don't much care for stories." She squeezed his leg and continued, "I've always loved stories, ever since I learned to read. I'd take a book from the library and hide for hours at a time." She smiled, fondly remembering the times where she had managed to stay hidden until well after dinner time. Before she could stop herself, she was telling Charles of such an occasion, "One time, incidentally it was the time I first got my hands on this very book, I hid so well they found me asleep in the middle of the night. The entire house was in turmoil, looking for me. I had disappeared straight after breakfast and just got so lost in the story that I forgot to eat. My mother was so relieved when they found me hiding in the attic. She made me promise never to hide again and I didn't until after she died only five weeks later…, " Abigail trailed off, her mother's death still saddening her even ten years later. She was glad that Charles did not ask any questions. He was just quietly combing her hair.
Ah while later, she picked up where their conversation had stopped, "So, if you don't like stories, why do you have all these books here?" Charles laughed, pausing his ministrations for a moment, "They belonged to the former captain. Normally we sell them, but we haven't gotten around to it, yet." A quiet, "Oh.", was Abigail's only reaction. She did not see the need to comment further though Charles was half expecting her to do it.
She eventually broke the silence but instead of the expected questions or accusations she began reading from the book in her lap. Starting at the beginning of the book, sharing the story with Charles. After a few sentences, Charles started combing her hair again, losing himself in the moment and his thoughts.
He had seen Jack and Anne at this before. Jack lovingly combing her hair in the quiet hours of the morning, most of the camp around them asleep. Charles had not understood until this very moment why Jack was so fond of it, but now he knew. A contended sigh escaped his lips before he could stop himself. The sound caused Abigail to stop her reading for a moment. She pressed a quick kiss to his knee and kept on reading.
They only realized how much time had passed when the dinner bell rang. Abigail closed the book with a quiet thud but Charles was not quite done: His deft fingers braiding her long, brown hair, tying the end with one of the many leather straps he had wrapped around his wrists. Abigail waited until he was done and twisted around. Kneeling before him, she pressed a sweet kiss to his lips. A whispered, "Thank you" passed from her lips, almost touching his. Charles was powerless to resist her. With a groan, he pressed his lips against hers again, wrapping his arms around her lower back and pulling her towards him. Abigail was equally powerless to resist him, her body pressing itself close to his.
When Charles and Abigail finally made it to the mess hall, dinner for the first shift was almost over. The mess hall deserted, ready and waiting for the next shift's dinner. They opted to take the food back to the cabin instead of eating in the mess hall. Both still craving more of the intimacy they had shared.
They settled back in the alcove and ate their food in silence. For now, they both just enjoyed being with each other. Abigail made herself comfortable in his arms after finishing the food, placing her ear directly on the place where his heart resided. Contentedly she closed her eyes and listened to his heartbeat.
Charles once again found himself deep in thought: It had never been like this with Eleanor. Deep down he had craved these feelings, and sometimes for a few fleeting moments he had been able to convince himself that it was what she wanted, too. Fighting, united, together against the outside world that was threatening to take their life. But she never did and she showed it to him, time and time again. Eleanor always wanted what was best for her, and only her. It was different with the tiny creature that had come to rest in his arms tonight. She ignited feelings in him that he had not thought possible. He was not one to settle down, not now not ever. He needed to roam, but he knew that from now on he needed her by his side.